


A Pile of Memories

by RayQueen



Series: Astoria Appreciation [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Astoria Greengrass, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Ravenclaw Astoria Greengrass, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayQueen/pseuds/RayQueen
Summary: Draco is having trouble with a specific spell and Astoria is hellbent on helping him, even if it takes all night.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Series: Astoria Appreciation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992475
Kudos: 23





	A Pile of Memories

"Astoria, if this is a joke, I'll kill you."

"Oh, ye of little faith. Just do it."

Draco, who was blindfolded, vulnerable and extremely uncomfortable, tried again, but nothing happened.

"One more time," he heard her saying.

It was obvious to Draco that Astoria was on a mission, and, unfortunately for him, he was a critical part of that mission. They had been practicing for two whole hours and Astoria was nowhere near satisfied. She got even more determined to make it work once a wisp of silver smoke left Draco's wand.

So far, he had only gotten a five minute break for a bit of the black coffee she had nicked from the kitchens and nothing else. At first, he wasn't sure if he should be drinking coffee at midnight, but as the time passed, he noticed that he probably wouldn't get much sleep that night anyway.

"No, I can't keep doing this all night."

He took off the piece of black fabric she had tied around his eyes, and saw Astoria sitting cross-legged on top of a desk, twirling her blue scarf around her wrist, staring at Draco's wand intently.

"So, did you do it?" she asked.

"Yes, Astoria. I did it. I tried thinking about my first Quidditch match when I was seven, but, guess what? I had forgotten that my team _lost_."

Astoria's melodic laughter echoed through the Charms classroom. Draco looked around and took the place in. It had been rebuilt after the war, and Flitwick had not been shy about the decoration this time. Instead of the wooden stool he usually stood upon, there was now a beautifully intricate chair with an indigo cushion and bronze carvings. The walls were not bare anymore and the books were now on their shelves, perfectly organized.

"Why did you choose this place anyway? We could have gone to the Room of Requirement, you know," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Nah. It's easier here. Plus, Flitwick said I could use it whenever I wanted, as long as I didn't disturb anyone," she said, dismissively.

Draco had always known about Flitwick's predilection towards his Ravens, but he doubted that the Professor allowed them to roam the halls after hours, even if it was to practice or study, but he didn't push the subject.

"Okay, I think we covered most of your childhood now and nothing worked. How is that even possible? I'm sure you had everything you wanted."

"I did," he admitted. "Every toy, every book, every pet, every piece of clothing. If I asked for something, I would get it. But that came at a cost. Mother was always at some luncheon with important people's wives, and Father was with said important people. So I did everything money could buy, but I was always alone."

"What about your birthday parties? From what I've heard, they were legendary," she pressed. Draco knew she was only trying to help, but she was stirring some painful emotions.

"True, but then again, Mother and Father were always with their friends somewhere discussing business, and I had to play with kids that I didn't like very much."

"Trips?"

"Those were great, I have to admit, but I don't have many memories of them. We stopped traveling when I turned 9 and Father had too many appointments to be able to take a week off."

She grunted. "Well, that is not helping."

"Don't get me wrong," he added quickly. "They were great parents and they loved me more than anyone, they just didn't really know how to show it. So, sometimes, they would gift me a peacock and think it was okay."

"Merlin, are you serious?" she asked, holding back a laugh. He nodded. "I thought people were just making things up about you."

She laughed. The kind of laugh that was not mocking. She found the peacock thing genuinely funny. Draco felt something warm up inside his chest and his eyes snapped shut.

He couldn't do this. No way. There was absolutely no way that this could work out. He wouldn't do this to her. She had just gotten used to the fact that she was friends with a former Death Eater, he couldn't very well tell her that he was probably fancying her. It was going to end badly. When Slughorn had asked him to tutor her in Potions once Draco went back to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year, she had almost thrown a potion vial toward his head. It took her a lot of convincing that he was not the same person he had been as a child. For months, she only tolerated him. Now that Astoria was finally his friend, his stupid heart found a way to complicate things further. He would not let this happen. Draco was going to put a stop to this right now.

"Astoria, I'm done! I don't want to do this anymore. We've been here for hours, I'm exhausted. We've tried every single childhood memory I can recall," he said, exasperated.

"Okay, maybe don't look back," she said, probably as a last attempt.

"Isn't that the whole point of this spell? To look back and find a happy memory?" He stared at her in confusion.

"Yes, it is, but I think you need to focus on the present. What makes you happy now?"

Draco was not ready to admit out loud yet that it was mostly her, so he settled for the regular answers.

"I don't know. Food, maybe." A horrified look crossed his face. "Oh, Merlin. I sound like Weasley."

Astoria couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, why does food make you happy?"

"Hm, I don't know. It's an easy time of the day. People are too focused on their own food and conversations to stare at me, and, lately, at home, Mother has been trying some new recipes. They're good. I didn't know she could cook."

Astoria raised an eyebrow, like she always did when she got an idea.

"Have you ever helped her?"

"Yes." He leaned back against the desk she still sat on. "We made a souffle once. It did not end well. Not for us, not for the kitchen and not for the souffle."

Draco was smiling involuntarily. His mother had been so carefree that day. Helping Draco with the recipe had been her only focus that night. They spilled milk, may or may not have had a flour fight (which they both vehemently denied happening when his father asked about it) and made an overall mess of things.

"Try that. Now," she demanded.

Draco did. He had nothing to lose anyway. If it didn't work, it would be just another failed attempt among the many of that night.

"Expecto Patronum," he enounced clearly.

Draco's eyes went big as Astoria clutched his hand and let out a squealing sound. The silver swan glided through the air and an almost uncontrollable urge to cry washed over Draco. Slowly, the swan faded, but Draco's surprise was still intact.

"We should celebrate," Astoria said, sounding more awake than she looked.

Draco chuckled. "Yeah, not tonight, though. Come on, I'll walk you back to your common room."

"Ugh, I wish I could just sleep here. There's no way I can answer that riddle tonight."

She did. Draco did not even dare pay attention to the riddle or the answer, as he knew he would not be of very much help. He had a good memory and he was great in classes, but those were very different things.

She gave him a hug once the door opened for her. He allowed himself to bury his face in her hair, but all he could think of was how easy it would be to just turn his face and kiss her. He didn't, though.

"Good night, Draco." She smiled when she pulled back.

"Yeah, good night, Astoria."

Draco felt like punching himself in the face. If regret could kill, he wouldn't make it back to his common room before dropping dead in the corridors.


End file.
